Every year, like clockwork, we hit reset. January 1 arrives and suddenly we believe this is the moment . The fresh start. The perfect time to redesign our lives, commit to a brand-new version of ourselves, and finally follow through on the promises we made last January 1… that didn’t quite stick. We set resolutions full of hope and determination — to sleep more, eat better, exercise consistently, meditate daily, keep up with charting, stop taking work home, finally say “no” m

There’s something about this time of year that feels… full.Not just our schedules — but our homes, our inboxes, our brains. The holiday season brings joy, connection, celebration — and also gifts, decorations, travel logistics, end-of-year deadlines, school events, performance reviews, and a sprinkling of “Oh no… did I forget ___?” every few hours. It’s a lot. Clutter is more than a mess - its pressure And if you’re a healthcare professional, the season doesn’t come with time

The end of the year comes with a certain script.We’re told it’s the season of joy, celebration, gratitude, and togetherness. Streets light up, holiday music plays everywhere you go, and every commercial insists you should be happily baking cookies or exchanging perfectly wrapped gifts with smiling family members. But if you work in healthcare, you know there’s another version of this season—one that rarely makes it into the holiday movies. It’s the time of year when stress le

When I decided to change jobs, I heard the same refrain over and over again: “But that doesn’t sound like you.”“Are you sure this will make you happy?”“You’ve been there so long—why leave now?” People couldn’t understand why I was willing to walk away from a role I had held for years. To them, the job title, the institution, and the stability defined who I was. But what they didn’t see was that I  had changed—quietly, slowly, and steadily—while trying my best to stay loyal to